


Family Trait

by h3l10s



Series: helios requests [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I havent written properly in forever, I wrote this instead of learning, Panic Attack, Ranboo is family, Sad Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Self-Destruction, Techno punches a mirror, The Voices, The voices are a family thing, sbi family, sort of ooc, this was a request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29376282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/h3l10s/pseuds/h3l10s
Summary: Techno hears voices. Ranboo hears a voice. They bond.
Relationships: Ranboo & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: helios requests [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157912
Comments: 6
Kudos: 271
Collections: Completed stories I've read





	Family Trait

**Author's Note:**

> i am genuinely not happy w/ how this was wrote, but I don’t feel like rewriting it. so,,, here Ya go.

Technoblade did not freak out. Technoblade was the strongest person on the server; he was the blood god, the king of the arctic empire. 

And most importantly, Technoblade did not have panic attacks because of something he’d dealt with his entire life. 

Except, here Technoblade was, on the floor of his bathroom with the heels of his palms pressed against his ears, trying to silence everything except the voices -- though he’d happily take them shutting up too, considering they were the reason he’d even landed there. 

Technoblade was alone, completely and entirely left to his own devices, his only company being that of the noisey voices taking space in his head and overwhelming him. His ears were ringing, though, even that didn’t stop the voices from screaming at him -- telling him they were hungry, oh so hungry, letting him know they were angry at him. Technoblade supposed this was the downside to having the blessing of a god. 

Techno’s hands shook with a fear he preferred to inflict in others, rather than deal with, himself. They wanted blood, and oh -- oh they’d get blood. Technoblade stood up, shakey on his legs after having fallen to them and sat on his calves for so long. His gaze fell upon himself in the mirror, his hair no longer neat and tidy as it was supposed to be, tucked into a neat braid -- instead messy and unruly, longer than it had been an hour before. 

His tusks were protruding more than they had been earlier in the day, his voices’ anger and his own terror mixing in with each other and creating a flurry of emotions, causing his grip on a human form to slip, slip through his fingers. Techno’s face was some odd mix of piglin features and human features, his eyes turning an unnatural golden shade, while his skin stayed the sickly pale it often was. 

Techno balled his right hand into a fist -- his stronger hand, the left would be useless -- and in a split second, before he could even process what he was doing, there was glass over his counter, and a stinging pain in his hand. Warm, sticky, thick liquid was running down his arm, crimson dripping onto the counter -- Blood. His hand stung with pain that must’ve come with getting glass in his hand, unsurprising and sharply painful. 

The voices were quiet for a moment, their surprise at the sudden, sharp scent of blood silencing them before they angrily began yelling again (HOW DARE YOU WRECK THE BODY OF A BLESSED, the screamed, YOU SHOULD NOT BE WORTHY). Technoblade found he didn’t quite care about their yelling; for the look and smell of the blood had him distracted for far longer than he’d have cared for. 

Was the blood not what they wanted? Was he required to take a life in order to satiate them? Technoblade was tired of killing poor fools who never would’ve stood a chance against him. He was tired of standing in the pit with his brother. He was tired of firing rockets off and ignoring the wretched smell of burning flesh and the sounds of the already-dead. He was tired of hearing the yell of terror as he dug his pickaxe through someone’s skull. Technoblade was exhausted. Technoblade’s heart was pounding in his ears. Technoblade felt someone’s hands on his forearm, gently leading him somewhere that wasn’t those exhausting places. 

Warm, lengthy fingers were gripped around his arm, and Technoblade barely registered the little anxious murmurs swirling through the air around the person -- Ranboo, he vaguely recounted -- pulling him through the house. It took them a moment that felt more like an hour to make it to the kitchen. Ranboo had pushed him, gently, to sit on the kitchen table. Worry poured off the ender hybrid in waves, and Techno couldn’t say anything, his throat tight. 

“Did you punch the mirror?” Ranboo asked, digging through the cabinets, disbelief in his voice, “I understand not wanting to see yourself, but you shouldn’t punch glass. It gets hard to get out of wounds, and it hurts.” Ranboo was rambling, and Techno wasn’t sure how he felt about the kid having to take care of him. 

“Phil will kill us both if he comes home to a shattered mirror and you having a bloody fist,” Ranboo smiled, momentarily, before he turned to look at Techno, obvious worry in his eyes, “Technoblade, who were you talking to, in the bathroom?” 

Techno hadn’t even realized he was talking, let alone to someone. Sure, he had a habit of muttering to the voices, but his entire family did. Surely Ranboo had heard Phil do it before, or even Tommy. Techno tapped his temple with his uninjured fist, a frown deepening on his face. Ranboo seemed to pause. 

“Your mind?” He questioned, bringing a wrap to Techno’s hand, “Or.. Technoblade, do you have voices, as well?” Ranboo’s gaze flickered from Techno’s fist, to his face -- though, he didn’t make eye contact, unsurprisingly. He had Techno open his fist, careful to not irritate any of the wounds. 

“‘S a family trait, Ranboo,” Techno would’ve laughed, had the situation been different, “What do you mean ‘as well’? Do you have ‘em?” His first words of the night were quiet, his voice scratchy and drained. His entire being felt drained, and there was no way he was going to get away with not sleeping again. Ranboo was quiet for a moment, before he nodded. Techno almost laughed. Maybe that was why Phil was so quick to bring the ender hybrid into their home, their life, and their family. Techno wouldn’t have been surprised, if it was the case.

“Mine sounds, um,” Ranboo fidgeted, his shoulders tensing, “He sounds like Dream.” Techno hadn’t been expecting that. Dream, of all people, was nowhere near to what he expected Ranboo’s clearly singular voice to sound like. 

“Mine don’t have sounds. I just.. Hear them,” Techno rubbed his leg with his uninjured hand, “They’re very loud today. I think I made them angry.” Techno flashed an awkward smile, his too-big tusks making it harder, even if it would’ve been weird anyways. Technoblade didn’t smile very often. 

“Is that why you hit the mirror?” Ranboo asked, a faint smile on his face, “I broke a vase once, my tail was going wild because I was stressed, and it just.. Fell, y’know?” Techno nodded. He’d done that more times than he could count on both hands, and the amount of times he’d had to clean up broken pieces of glass and destroyed pottery was a bit embarrassing. 

“Yeah. I remember I almost killed Wilbur once,” Techno said, his tone making it clear he was joking, “He popped around a corner, and I had been having a bad day, and I hit him hard enough to break his nose,” Techno huffed a little in laughter, Ranboo snickering at the prospect of Techno jumping and then punching Wilbur, “Don’t tell Phil about that, Ranboo.” Techno was smiling of all things, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

“I would never,” Ranboo grinned, little fangs peeking through. He settled down with his laughter, a content little sigh escaping him. Ranboo hadn’t ever been able to get Techno to smile, let alone get laughter out of the piglin. It was almost like a game. A game that Ranboo wasn’t sure had a ‘winning’ point. 

After that, they grew silent. Techno didn’t seem to mind, so Ranboo didn’t either. It wasn’t a stuffy or awkward silence, but instead, rather calm and comforting. It was like a warm blanket on one of the extra cold days of winter in the Arctic. It was nice, nicer than most of the moments Techno had dealt with while living with the lanky enderman teenager. 

And so, something different bloomed between the two. Whether it was brotherhood, or a solemn understanding of one another, they seemed to be alright with each other after that -- no longer awkwardly working around one another, instead working together smoothly. Philza seemed to notice the change, but he never said anything, only smiling in that way that only he could commit to, easygoing and friendly. 

Techno had found his family, the Antarctic Commune becoming his home, even if that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They were his, and he was theirs, wholly and entirely.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twt @h3li0sc3ntric and yell at me or smth idk


End file.
